Nephtys
First Post
Out there lie the infinite planes, turning forever in a cosmic dance to a tune noone can hear. Out there, connecting all planes, Sigil gleams and reeks in the center of all things. Out there are wonders and horrors beyond imagining, Angels, Demons, Gods. But here... Here are no Angels, and the only God left within our sphere lies dead and eternally rotting. There is no lack of horrors here, for the world is rich and full of life.
A great war among the gods nearly destroyed the world in ages far gone and threw down the greatest of their number to the earth where his corpse still lies seeping life and power into the twisted creatures that feed upon him. The remaining pantheon, wounded, weakened and horrified at what they had done both to themselves and their creation vowed to set themselves apart from their bone of contention and never again interfere in its affairs. Unable to break their vow they now look on in impotent rage as the world is raped.
The world healed and the gears turned. Patient beings looked on greedily awaiting the time to strike, manipulating events from afar. They had no easy task for the gods had raised walls to protect the world when they swore their vows, but all walls weaken in time and barriers that had been erected to fend off intruders from the outside could still be eroded from within. In the end a whisper was enough, a promise of power and bliss. Feeble or powerful, few men could have resisted that promise from that voice. The promise was kept, and the Artificer of Ogaan has been well rewarded for his crime.
They came trough his portal, the Demon-lord Xileg clad in the flesh of scorpions, his consort the Succubus sorceress Love, the Horde Mistress and Marilith Yangava, Ingarr the Master of Balors, the Fiendish human Wizard Cormand and his half-human apprentices Ilva and Kio, the Trembling One, the Wormkeeper, Zarakhar, Valorash, The Creeper, Qagroth, The Vile, Geron, The Fleshcrafter, The Laughing Zephyr, Mersam, The Lady of Flowers, Ubilith, and a screaming torrent, an endless army of demons.
The world fell, for though the nations and powers of the world fought back they were soon overwhelmed. And when the angels came, called by the remaining priests of the Rotting God Lord Xileg was well prepared. The spell that slew him even as he carved his way trough his celestial foes came from another source and his body was consumed along with his enemies.
A triumvirate of Lords took over, but only helped to cause a civil war. The home, an infinite fraction of an infinite plane, was lost. And yet the war raged for nine years before a new order arose. The greatest of the Lords and Ladies divided the world and its souls into their domains and joined into a council to rule each other and coordinate their efforts against common threaths and the few remaining enclaves of unconquered mortals.
This is the world, your world, and there is no escape. The walls around the world are still too strong for you to break trough and death only leads to deeper damnation for the Demonlords have made their mark deep into their domains and the souls of the dead are theirs. The mortal enclaves are far from safe, in time their doom is assured. But you do not have the good luck to be living there.
Fortunately the Lords have need of competent mortal servants, and it's quite possible to live a good enough life for the few who are able to keep their favour. While most of humanity and goblinkind live in great sprawling urban slums kept fed by undead labour until their death brings in the harvest you have the potential for greater things.
You all know this, though it's spoken of in infinite variation, elaboration and brevity. You all know this and you all, in your own ways, misunderstand it. There is no one truth is this demonic world.
20 years have passed, and half a billion souls have passed into demonic hands, half a billion more have been born. 25 Lords, demonic and human, have become 13 and yet the sum of their power is as great as ever. Humanity, accepting the inevitable, have begun to adapt. There is peace between the Lords, as great a peace as Demons desire, and so their wars are fought in the shadows or by proxy. The Council of Lords keeps the world united even as it tares itself apart, keeping the realms of the dead Lords under its central administration and dividing their proceeds as the ever shifting power dictates. You all know this, and most of you have thrived from this in your own ways. For this is your world.
Lords and Domains
ooc: more to come.
1
2 - Ramengres
Lord - Ingarr (the Master of Balors), Balor Blackguard/Frenzied Berserker
3
4
5 - Ijainvaa
Lady - Yangava (the Hordemistress), Marilith Weaponmaster/Marshal,
6
7
8
9
10
11 - Supresa
Lord - Avos Ignatius (aka The Artificer of Ogaan, aka the traitor), Human Wizard/Artificer/Loremaster
The Artificer of Ogaan, aka the traitor, aka Avos Ignatius, rules his old home-land of Supresa (an area the size of France with 25 million souls) with an iron fist and near diabolical organisation. A specialist of magical creation, both of items and twisted creatures he treats his domain as a source of raw materials but takes care not to deplete his stock. Because of an ambitions education programme Supresa is the world's center of the production of magical items and is probably the country in the world that is richest in gold.
The Artificer was one of the Lords who contributed to the erection of the Towers of Life and as such reaps a large share of their harvest to fuel his ever-increasing need for souls.
12
13
14
15
16
17
18 - Samnath
Lady - Love, Succubus epic Sorceress/?
19 - Decay
Lady? - The Lady of Flowers, ???
20 - The Burning Mountains
21 - Shalang
22 - Lomi'ki
23 - The Blackranges
24 - Kalesh
Lord - Derek Cormand, Fiendish Human Wizard/Archmage
Cormand, fiendish a human from the abyss, and one of the consorts of the Succubus Lady Love seems to be deep under her sway, but perceptions can be deceptive. His domain, an area of deserts the size and shape of the Sahara is poor in souls but rich in ores, even of the rarest kind. Still, Kalesh is considered the weakest of the ordered domains and Cormand, lacking a reserve of soul-components to fuel his epic spells that comes close to most others of the spellcasting Lords is wise to ally himself closely to those who are stronger than himself. Because of his apparent poverty in Souls few demons follow him, but he holds great powers over the undead.
Of his two epic apprentices only Ilva remains, but her wereabouts are unknown.
25 - Vimik
Lord - Abarim,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ysande.
You were forced to leave the beautiful and cultured Golden Hills district and the court of Samnath's Lady Love due to, well let's call it an unfortunate turn of events. With the aid of your ever faithful ally Kaj and your occasional lover, rival and friend the Incubus Giovanni you made a narrow escape, leaving some of your enemies humiliated and others triumphant. Ijvainvaa may not have been the ideal destination for your flight, but judging from what you know of the local Lady the Marilith Yangava and her relations with the Lady Love it's probably as safe a place as any.
Due to your own reputation and aided by Giovannis surprising influences in the militaristic court of Ijainvaa you have managed to find a high place in Yangava's employ. She is one of the greater Lords, to your knowlege, as great as Lady Love but as different from her as night is to day. Devious, yes, her reputation bespeaks her military genious, but forthright and deliberate in her manners. There is intrigue in her court, but she appears to be above it. Giovanni assures you it is a place you can thrive, and though you know he is trying to use you for his own purposes you seem to lack any better alternatives for the moment. Besides, your occasional use of eachothers have for the most part in the past been pleasant to say the least.
You have been summoned, an hour from now, for an audience with the Lady Yangava, Lady of Ijainvaa, third in the Council, The Hordemistress, The Ravager of Cel-candon, The Slayer of the Dragons, Avenger of Xileg and Protectress of the Fifth Tower (and a dozen other titles stemming from the Abyss). It is a high honour, but a deadly one.
ooc: You did write that she had demonic lovers , hope you don't mind.
Sir William
Your Father is a powerful man. In his own regard he's the most powerful human being in the world, and he's not far wrong. It wouldn't be difficult for him to find you if you lacked the protection of powerful allies. Fortunately, because of what you are, there are many who would aid you. Not that the legitimate rights of an heir counts for much among the Lords, but it is one weapon among many. And why leave a weapon unused? You are valuable, and that is both a blessing and a curse.
Elendarion, the capital of Ijainvaa, a sprawling slum dotted with the crystal ruins of elven civilization, populated by goblins and humans and plagued by undead and demons, may not be a plesant place to stay but as safe as any other. There is evil here to fight, there is always evil to fight, but at least the place seems less chaotic than many other demonic realms. There is a military order here, struggling endlessly against its own chaos, that at the very least is a small relief for you. Yangava, the Lady of the domain, seems to do her job as well as could be expected. Thank the gods for small blessings... The Lady Yangava is known for her enmity with your father and his patroness the Lady Love, their agents are unlikely to be welcome here.
The day is hot, the sun grows unbearable, so you seek the shade and drink of the first bar you see that doesn't use severed bodyparts as a sign. The laughing Wrock, named for the petrified demon by the door seems peaceful and clean enough.
Mystic
You have come a long way in your search for knowlege only to end up back in the city of your birth. It is not an unwelcome sight and though you'd perhaps like to see your childhood in a nostalgic light you cannot say wether the changes wrought while you were away have been for the better or for worse. At least the fires no longer rage in Elendarion, at least the people no longer seem as desperate, though the desperation seems to have given way to resignation. Violence still flares in the streets, but nothing like the chaos in the years following the civil war. Even the demons seem more controlled, the less ambitions kinds kept sated and comfortable by the Towers of Life... The implications of that thought may disturb you for a moment, but it's a familiar threat by now.
You make your way to the library, a familiar building of elven elegance but expanded with some hideous demonic abstraction of a wing. After arguing and bribing your way around the obnoxious Nalfeshnee head-librarian you spend some time bent over the ancient tomes of your craft but finding little of value you leave.
For a time you wander, watchful yet deep in thought as you rediscover the city. A familiar sign catches your eye, a petrified Wrock with a hilarious and vicious expression on its beaked face. You once had a friend, or maybe more of an aquaintance, who owned this bar and you spent some time here in your youth when you wanted to hide from the world. It's a warm day and you are thirsty. Maybe it would be interesting to get a closer look...
ooc: I'll introduce the other characters once they're in the RG (That's not really why I didn't do it now, I'm just too tired, but the inconvenience of looking elsewhere for them and the uncertainty wether their backgrounds are completed the way you'd like them plays a part). I'm thinking we'll have two parties that will merge into one not too far down the line. It makes it easier for your characters to get to know each others (six people (with cohorts familiars and mounts) all meeting at once always leaves some of them in the shadow).
A great war among the gods nearly destroyed the world in ages far gone and threw down the greatest of their number to the earth where his corpse still lies seeping life and power into the twisted creatures that feed upon him. The remaining pantheon, wounded, weakened and horrified at what they had done both to themselves and their creation vowed to set themselves apart from their bone of contention and never again interfere in its affairs. Unable to break their vow they now look on in impotent rage as the world is raped.
The world healed and the gears turned. Patient beings looked on greedily awaiting the time to strike, manipulating events from afar. They had no easy task for the gods had raised walls to protect the world when they swore their vows, but all walls weaken in time and barriers that had been erected to fend off intruders from the outside could still be eroded from within. In the end a whisper was enough, a promise of power and bliss. Feeble or powerful, few men could have resisted that promise from that voice. The promise was kept, and the Artificer of Ogaan has been well rewarded for his crime.
They came trough his portal, the Demon-lord Xileg clad in the flesh of scorpions, his consort the Succubus sorceress Love, the Horde Mistress and Marilith Yangava, Ingarr the Master of Balors, the Fiendish human Wizard Cormand and his half-human apprentices Ilva and Kio, the Trembling One, the Wormkeeper, Zarakhar, Valorash, The Creeper, Qagroth, The Vile, Geron, The Fleshcrafter, The Laughing Zephyr, Mersam, The Lady of Flowers, Ubilith, and a screaming torrent, an endless army of demons.
The world fell, for though the nations and powers of the world fought back they were soon overwhelmed. And when the angels came, called by the remaining priests of the Rotting God Lord Xileg was well prepared. The spell that slew him even as he carved his way trough his celestial foes came from another source and his body was consumed along with his enemies.
A triumvirate of Lords took over, but only helped to cause a civil war. The home, an infinite fraction of an infinite plane, was lost. And yet the war raged for nine years before a new order arose. The greatest of the Lords and Ladies divided the world and its souls into their domains and joined into a council to rule each other and coordinate their efforts against common threaths and the few remaining enclaves of unconquered mortals.
This is the world, your world, and there is no escape. The walls around the world are still too strong for you to break trough and death only leads to deeper damnation for the Demonlords have made their mark deep into their domains and the souls of the dead are theirs. The mortal enclaves are far from safe, in time their doom is assured. But you do not have the good luck to be living there.
Fortunately the Lords have need of competent mortal servants, and it's quite possible to live a good enough life for the few who are able to keep their favour. While most of humanity and goblinkind live in great sprawling urban slums kept fed by undead labour until their death brings in the harvest you have the potential for greater things.
You all know this, though it's spoken of in infinite variation, elaboration and brevity. You all know this and you all, in your own ways, misunderstand it. There is no one truth is this demonic world.
20 years have passed, and half a billion souls have passed into demonic hands, half a billion more have been born. 25 Lords, demonic and human, have become 13 and yet the sum of their power is as great as ever. Humanity, accepting the inevitable, have begun to adapt. There is peace between the Lords, as great a peace as Demons desire, and so their wars are fought in the shadows or by proxy. The Council of Lords keeps the world united even as it tares itself apart, keeping the realms of the dead Lords under its central administration and dividing their proceeds as the ever shifting power dictates. You all know this, and most of you have thrived from this in your own ways. For this is your world.
Lords and Domains
ooc: more to come.
1
2 - Ramengres
Lord - Ingarr (the Master of Balors), Balor Blackguard/Frenzied Berserker
3
4
5 - Ijainvaa
Lady - Yangava (the Hordemistress), Marilith Weaponmaster/Marshal,
6
7
8
9
10
11 - Supresa
Lord - Avos Ignatius (aka The Artificer of Ogaan, aka the traitor), Human Wizard/Artificer/Loremaster
The Artificer of Ogaan, aka the traitor, aka Avos Ignatius, rules his old home-land of Supresa (an area the size of France with 25 million souls) with an iron fist and near diabolical organisation. A specialist of magical creation, both of items and twisted creatures he treats his domain as a source of raw materials but takes care not to deplete his stock. Because of an ambitions education programme Supresa is the world's center of the production of magical items and is probably the country in the world that is richest in gold.
The Artificer was one of the Lords who contributed to the erection of the Towers of Life and as such reaps a large share of their harvest to fuel his ever-increasing need for souls.
12
13
14
15
16
17
18 - Samnath
Lady - Love, Succubus epic Sorceress/?
19 - Decay
Lady? - The Lady of Flowers, ???
20 - The Burning Mountains
21 - Shalang
22 - Lomi'ki
23 - The Blackranges
24 - Kalesh
Lord - Derek Cormand, Fiendish Human Wizard/Archmage
Cormand, fiendish a human from the abyss, and one of the consorts of the Succubus Lady Love seems to be deep under her sway, but perceptions can be deceptive. His domain, an area of deserts the size and shape of the Sahara is poor in souls but rich in ores, even of the rarest kind. Still, Kalesh is considered the weakest of the ordered domains and Cormand, lacking a reserve of soul-components to fuel his epic spells that comes close to most others of the spellcasting Lords is wise to ally himself closely to those who are stronger than himself. Because of his apparent poverty in Souls few demons follow him, but he holds great powers over the undead.
Of his two epic apprentices only Ilva remains, but her wereabouts are unknown.
25 - Vimik
Lord - Abarim,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ysande.
You were forced to leave the beautiful and cultured Golden Hills district and the court of Samnath's Lady Love due to, well let's call it an unfortunate turn of events. With the aid of your ever faithful ally Kaj and your occasional lover, rival and friend the Incubus Giovanni you made a narrow escape, leaving some of your enemies humiliated and others triumphant. Ijvainvaa may not have been the ideal destination for your flight, but judging from what you know of the local Lady the Marilith Yangava and her relations with the Lady Love it's probably as safe a place as any.
Due to your own reputation and aided by Giovannis surprising influences in the militaristic court of Ijainvaa you have managed to find a high place in Yangava's employ. She is one of the greater Lords, to your knowlege, as great as Lady Love but as different from her as night is to day. Devious, yes, her reputation bespeaks her military genious, but forthright and deliberate in her manners. There is intrigue in her court, but she appears to be above it. Giovanni assures you it is a place you can thrive, and though you know he is trying to use you for his own purposes you seem to lack any better alternatives for the moment. Besides, your occasional use of eachothers have for the most part in the past been pleasant to say the least.
You have been summoned, an hour from now, for an audience with the Lady Yangava, Lady of Ijainvaa, third in the Council, The Hordemistress, The Ravager of Cel-candon, The Slayer of the Dragons, Avenger of Xileg and Protectress of the Fifth Tower (and a dozen other titles stemming from the Abyss). It is a high honour, but a deadly one.
ooc: You did write that she had demonic lovers , hope you don't mind.
Sir William
Your Father is a powerful man. In his own regard he's the most powerful human being in the world, and he's not far wrong. It wouldn't be difficult for him to find you if you lacked the protection of powerful allies. Fortunately, because of what you are, there are many who would aid you. Not that the legitimate rights of an heir counts for much among the Lords, but it is one weapon among many. And why leave a weapon unused? You are valuable, and that is both a blessing and a curse.
Elendarion, the capital of Ijainvaa, a sprawling slum dotted with the crystal ruins of elven civilization, populated by goblins and humans and plagued by undead and demons, may not be a plesant place to stay but as safe as any other. There is evil here to fight, there is always evil to fight, but at least the place seems less chaotic than many other demonic realms. There is a military order here, struggling endlessly against its own chaos, that at the very least is a small relief for you. Yangava, the Lady of the domain, seems to do her job as well as could be expected. Thank the gods for small blessings... The Lady Yangava is known for her enmity with your father and his patroness the Lady Love, their agents are unlikely to be welcome here.
The day is hot, the sun grows unbearable, so you seek the shade and drink of the first bar you see that doesn't use severed bodyparts as a sign. The laughing Wrock, named for the petrified demon by the door seems peaceful and clean enough.
Mystic
You have come a long way in your search for knowlege only to end up back in the city of your birth. It is not an unwelcome sight and though you'd perhaps like to see your childhood in a nostalgic light you cannot say wether the changes wrought while you were away have been for the better or for worse. At least the fires no longer rage in Elendarion, at least the people no longer seem as desperate, though the desperation seems to have given way to resignation. Violence still flares in the streets, but nothing like the chaos in the years following the civil war. Even the demons seem more controlled, the less ambitions kinds kept sated and comfortable by the Towers of Life... The implications of that thought may disturb you for a moment, but it's a familiar threat by now.
You make your way to the library, a familiar building of elven elegance but expanded with some hideous demonic abstraction of a wing. After arguing and bribing your way around the obnoxious Nalfeshnee head-librarian you spend some time bent over the ancient tomes of your craft but finding little of value you leave.
For a time you wander, watchful yet deep in thought as you rediscover the city. A familiar sign catches your eye, a petrified Wrock with a hilarious and vicious expression on its beaked face. You once had a friend, or maybe more of an aquaintance, who owned this bar and you spent some time here in your youth when you wanted to hide from the world. It's a warm day and you are thirsty. Maybe it would be interesting to get a closer look...
ooc: I'll introduce the other characters once they're in the RG (That's not really why I didn't do it now, I'm just too tired, but the inconvenience of looking elsewhere for them and the uncertainty wether their backgrounds are completed the way you'd like them plays a part). I'm thinking we'll have two parties that will merge into one not too far down the line. It makes it easier for your characters to get to know each others (six people (with cohorts familiars and mounts) all meeting at once always leaves some of them in the shadow).
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